Angel of Death
by crystal2240
Summary: An assassin from the real world finds herself reincarnated into an anime upon her death. Said assassin-whether it was because the Gods hated her or she was just plain unlucky-happened to wind up in Katekyo Hitman Reborn. A show she use to watch due to it's rather humorous view on her occupation. What's more, she was reincarnated into a living target. The unknown daughter of Reborn.
1. Reincarnation

Disclaimer: I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn or any of it's original characters. I wish though :3

* * *

_Drip. Drip. Drip. On the cold cement floor bleeding to death..._

I always knew it was going to happen one day. I just didn't think it'd be my lover who'd do it. How naive of me.

Death via bullets to both lungs courtesy of my gang lord on-and-off partner of three years.

It's a shame that I was too weakened to take him down with me before I blacked out from the blood loss.

In life, my occupation was assassination, so this scenario involving my death was hardly surprising. If anything, I really should have seen it coming. My lover _was_ a ruthless back-stabbing bastard after all.

Unfortunately, as I was only a mediocre assassin at best, I was no where _near _the fighting prowess needed to take down him and his employees when half drugged and caught by surprise. Fucking cowardly assholes that they were.

In certain circles, I was referred to as the**_ Angel of Death_**. The name pertained to my physical appearance—a milky skinned, blued eyed blonde with an hourglass figure—and my painless kills.

Compared to the majority of my business associates though, I wasn't anything special. My mercy labeled me as "soft" and while my looks often worked to my advantage; there were plenty of other beautiful women in my line of work. It was just a matter of question of whether they were born that way.

The irony is that despite my nickname I was absolutely sure that I was going straight to hell. You don't do what I do and end up in paradise.

Instead of the expected brimstone and hellfire though, I was greeted by a blinding white light. Perhaps it was _that white light_—the one where you go towards to completely cross over. Not heaven.

I was wrong.

In an unreal twist of fate I was reincarnated.

The woman who gave birth to me died soon after I was pushed out; an experience I managed to block out with coping mechanisms developed from situations that used to haunt my nightmares—missions gone bad and betrayals still too raw to talk about.

Luckily though (depending on how you looked at it) my "mother" had picked out my name beforehand and had already filled out the necessary legal papers to make it official in the eyes of the law. I couldn't help but wonder if she somehow sensed that she wouldn't make it out of the birthing room or if she was just the over eager new mother type. Most likely the latter.

It was with a pitying glance from a nurse that a newly born Persephone De La Rose was shoved into St. Maurie's orphanage at 2:13 a.m. on December 13, 1999 when her only living guardian and relative—and biological mother—passed away after giving birth to her.


	2. Discovery

_At ______ Maurie's_ orphanage three months after being born...

Always adapt quickly. That was a lesson I acquired from personal experience. Questioning and second guessing things only slowed you down and more often than not got you killed. Even in a newly born infant's body; the words were self-ingrained.

No matter how illogical and impossible my common sense screamed that my situation was; there was no denying the evidence that kept piling up. The sensations and time that passed by in that wretched incubator were more than enough proof. The only question now was: _where the hell am I?_

My answer came in the form of a plain brown-eyed brunette who worked as one of the orphanage's caretakers. She liked to circle the nursery whenever she fed me that crappy baby formula milk that the people here tried to pass off as food. Honestly, it's no wonder babies cry all the time.

To my misfortune, a person's sense of taste is connected to the human nervous system (aka. brain), so instead of not caring like a barely developed _real_ three month old infant wouldn't—I was forcibly trying not to gag every time I had a meal. Starving was pretty much out of the question. My survival instincts were far too honed and I didn't particularly feel like dying again so soon. Not to mention, starvation was a rather slow and painful way to go.

"Look little one," Jane—as I've mentally dubbed the brunette; derived from the American expression '_Plain Jane'_—encouraged as she brought me to a mirror. That was another thing I noticed. The people around me were speaking Italian. A language, in which, I was only semi-fluent in. My native was English with French as a continued high school course and some Spanish picked off from the streets. My Italian, on the other hand, was very roughly learned due to a requirement for a past seduction mission. Apparently, some men held a fetish for blonde women who could speak dirty words in Italian and be able to hold a conversation in it as well. Go figure.

"Look how cute you are Persephone. Do you see that baby in the mirror? That's you sweetheart." Jane was cooing at me, adjusting my body so that I had a clear view of my appearance.

An image of a tiny figure, with even tinier hands, big dark purple-violet orbs, wet pink lips, two curly sideburns that dramatically framed a small chubby face, and a head of soft black curls were reflected back at me.

_Holy fucking hell._

I looked at the image of the baby in the mirror with something akin to mind numbing shock. The kind you experience when you catch your lover cheating red-handed or wake up in a foreign setting gagged and chained after being sold out by your former comrade. It was _that_ kind of shock.

Nobody could've blamed me for it either. Pro assassin or not, being reincarnated into what I was absolutely _sure _was an exact look alike—albeit a smaller female version—of one of my favorite anime characters was most assuredly _not_ what I was expecting. And so, like a teenager who had just walked in on her parents playing Red Riding Hood and The Big Bad Wolf, I passed out from the new found revelation.

The brunette caretaker blinked down at the infant in her arms. "Oh? Did you go to sleep already darling?"

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Thank you to everyone who reviewed.

I'd like to give a shout out to LadyKarma18 who's amazingly long chapters for Unknown Sun inspired me to update in the same day. If you haven't read her story yet: you should.

Please keep the comments coming. I absolutely adore them, and any about grammar mistakes or concerns would also be appreciated.


	3. Realizations

_10:43 p.m. (around seven hours later)—the newly named Persephone wakes up to find herself alone in a crib with the nursery lights off…She silently sorts through her internal turmoil…_

Katekyo Hitman Reborn—I was trapped in an anime; a god forsaken _mafia_ _centered _anime. Didn't this kind of shit only happen in fanfictions, or, at the very least, to really naughty people? I mean, I was a pretty decent chick in life.

Okay, so there was the whole _"professional assassin"_ gig, but honestly, **_Angel of Death_**; _famous for painless kills_. Didn't that count for anything?

Apparently not.

*_groan_*

Damn it. Why couldn't it just be my poor infant eyesight playing tricks on me whenever an adult came into view looking like a 3D manga cutout? Why did it actually have to be the real deal?

Whoever was in charge of the rebirth station must've been screwing with me. I just know it. I was probably like some sort of twisted version of Total Drama Island to them.

I mean _come on people_, as if being reincarnated into a shady anime wasn't enough, you have to fuck with my appearance as well.

Granted, I didn't have a problem with this body being the polar opposite in regards in looks to my previous one. Aliases and disguises were second nature to me, and I've been a raven haired female plenty of times before, but it was the other traits that worried me. Especially when I had them in this particular anime.

Curly dramatic sideburns, familiar face structure, feminine infant replica of a certain sun flame user…You may as well have tattooed "Shoot me!" across my forehead. I'm sure it would've been less obvious.

Though it does lead to a rather interesting question like: _Just who the hell am I in this world?_

Had I somehow replaced the original Reborn? If that was the case then the plot-line could go F-itself. No way was I being turned into an infant _again_. This first experience was unique enough, thanks.

Unfortunately—and I say this because being Reborn was a hell of a lot better than the alternative—there were a couple of factors that contradicted this theory. For one thing, my eyes were a dark violet-purple not coal black (I somehow doubt my gender affected the color differentiation); and my last name is _De La Rose_ not _Serafino_. Thus, I can come to the conclusion that I did not, in fact, replace the real Reborn.

Meaning the alternative (the one I really wish wasn't true, but had the highest percentage of accuracy) was most likely the correct assumption. I was a relative of his; closely related too, if the looks were anything to go by.

A complication with this belief however, was that there was no mention of any of Reborn's blood relations in the anime. No siblings or cousins or parents; _nada_. That only left the hitman himself as the possible source of half my current set of genetics.

And when one used their brains and fully contemplated the consequences of being the owner of my new body...Put it simply: it was a very, very bad thing.

As baby Reborn (not the acrobaleno induced one; a real infant), I would've been fine, just another nobody, unless, of course, I willingly _chose_ to immerse myself in the mafia later on in this life. Then at least, I could have gradually worked myself up the food chain at a more sedate pace under anonymous conditions.

As The World's Greatest Hitman's_ daughter _however, I was basically a living breathing target whether I joined or not. This would've been somewhat bearable had I a squad of fully trained and capable bodyguards ready to die for me at any given second, but seeing as I didn't…

It pretty much sucked ass.

The only edge I held was the experience from my previous life, and that wasn't that great of an advantage when you accounted for the fact that I only knew some basic fighting moves—the ones that bought you enough time to get away.

My specialty was infiltration and killing from afar. There was never truly a situation that required my direct intervention unless the plan went awry or I had to swipe something off the victim's person. Not to mention, in my previous life, assassinations rarely coincided with each other. Even if they did, it was with a brief acknowledgement to the other killer and a confirmation that they were both contracted for different hits, that the problem was solved. In the event that they were aiming for the same person…Usually one of them walked away and got revenge on the other assassin later.

I have personally never been in such a dilemma. My kills were all clean. Thus, I have rarely ever needed to engage in physical combat.

That, and in real life, people don't have dying will flames or superhuman strength and speed, so I hadn't a single clue as how to fight in this world. Especially since everything seemed mainly focused on those specific things (which wasn't surprising when you really thought about it; this was the anime world, after all).

Judging by the fact that I was placed in an orphanage, I can only assume that if Reborn really is my father, that he is currently unaware of my existence.

From his characterization in the anime, he seems to hold _famiglia_ as a high priority and—though I'm not sure if he knows it—has a subtle soft spot for women. Which means that a daughter would more likely than not, be considered precious.

Not only that, but he doesn't come off as the type to abandon a child; especially his own, regardless of the gender.

This meant that he honest to God didn't know that he had managed to procreate, and I was therefore left as a defenseless infant in an orphanage located in Italy, with the chances of discovery and eventual death increasing everyday.

It was official: someone was screwing with me.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Whew! *wipes forehead* I finally managed to update.

This chapter is dedicated to Alexandria Volturi; the author of "Shining Sun" (another Reborn's daughter SI story) for PMing me all day.

You're a real motivator.

To all the people who've viewed my story: Please review! They inspire me to write and i love all the comments and constructive criticism I can get. Which is a subtle (or not so subtle) way of saying that the more reviews I get, the faster I'll upload *hint, hint*

As for some of the comments I've gotten so far: I know my chapters have been short, but that's because I've only been establishing my self-insert's character and the story's setting. This is only the introduction. Things will really start to move along after a few more chapters :3


	4. Endearment

_The next morning—still in her crib…_

Play to your strengths. Words I kept close to my heart.

I wasn't going to delude myself. Even if I wasn't a vulnerable baby at the moment, I was still severely disadvantaged. I didn't know jack shit about hand-to-hand combat nor was I an expert in weapons; things that tended to be the norm in this anime.

That being said, it didn't mean I was completely helpless either. I was a pro for a _reason_ in my first life, and despite my lack of fighting ability when measured against other assassins, I was smart enough to realize that strength wasn't everything. Intelligence mattered as well; sometimes even more than strength did. What was brawn without brains, after all?

I may not know the ins-and-outs of this world's criminal underground, but I had cunning in spades, and had long ago learned when to have pride, and when to toss it.

An ignorant person would've been disgusted with such morals, would've said something stupid like, "I'd rather die with pride than—blank—the enemy".

That was a fool's saying.

Turning tail or spreading my legs for my adversaries was _not_ beneath me. Any hesitation I might have once held was long ago lost from one too many imprisonments and torture sessions.

Sex and lies were merely tools to be utilized, and running away meant that I would live another day. It was that simple.

* * *

My first plan of action was to start preparing. I couldn't continue living under the notion that I had enough time to get stronger before the mafia found out about my existence. I was living in Italy. My survival chances were slim as it was.

I needed to restart from the basics: facial expressions.

Since my face was now that of a babes, I sincerely doubted sexy smirks and lustful glances would work. My best bet was to enhance my natural infant cuteness. Some waterworks, angry pouts, innocent batting of the eyes, and tearful-about-to-cry-but-not-really demonstrations would suffice.

The nursery door opened. I peeked between the polished wooden bars of the crib to see Plain Jane standing at the door with more formula milk. Ugh.

She strode over to my crib.

"Hello sweetie, how are you today? Are you hungry? I never hear you cry. You're such a good baby." She lifted me up, kissing my cheeks.

I purposely gurgled. I may as well use her for my first test subject.

Her eyes widened momentarily before she beamed. "Oh," she gushed "that's the first time I've heard you make such a sound! The others will be so jealous. Hold on sweetheart, let me just go get them. I'll be right back." She ran out the room.

Well, it seems I'll be obtaining more test subjects.

She came back with two other women. An elderly lady with graying blonde hair, and a freckled auburn haired woman that appeared to be in her mid-twenties, the same age group as Plain Jane.

"What is it Jane? What did you want to show us?" The auburn one asked. She was pretty. Not beautiful, but pretty. She wore a tomboyish look.

I stilled at the name. No way.

**_Jane_** threw an excited look in the freckled woman's direction.

"Watch this Susan." She smiled brightly at me. "Hi. Hi there sweetie. How are you today?" She echoed some of her words from before.

I knew what she wanted, so I obliged. I gurgled, squealing.

The elderly woman laughed. "Oh, she's a cute one! Definitely be a looker when she's older, too."

Susan (auburn hair) did not look impressed. "Yeah…Not to be rude Jane, but what's so special about a baby giggling?"

**_Jane_**—and wasn't that ironic?—glowered at her. "It's special because Persephone is usually so quiet. I was getting worried that something was wrong with her."

Susan rolled her eyes. "That's a good thing Jane. Besides, the kid was probably just getting used to her new surroundings. Now that you've got her started; she'll be a pain like all the others."

I blinked wide violet eyes innocently as if to contradict her statement. Someone wasn't a fan of babies.

Susan arched an eyebrow. Jane cooed at me before looking to her friend as if to say, "See? How could she cause any trouble?" and the aged blonde smiled kindly at me.

Susan shook her head. "Whatever. I'm out of here. It's time for Timmy's nap and I'd rather not waste any more time staring at a baby who probably can't even understand me anyway." She left.

The old woman smiled at Jane. "I have to go too, dear, but I'll be sure to visit the orphanage again soon."

Jane beamed. "Of course, Silvia," she hugged her. "Come back anytime."

Jane refocused her attention on me after Silvia was out of the room, grabbing my small hand and kissing it.

"I'm sorry Persephone. I forgot that I was suppose to be feeding you. You must be so hungry right now. Let your _sorella_ (big sister) reheat your bottle real quick. It'll only take a moment."

My face scrunched up slightly at the thought of the disgusting milk, but Jane apparently took it as a sign that I was extremely hungry because she all but sprinted to reheat the damn thing.

Ugh.

* * *

_Two months later… At the orphanage…_

"Isn't that baby in the nursery just the cutest thing?" a volunteer worker squealed to her friend.

"Which one?"

"The one Jane always talks about. Persephone."

"Oh, her! She's absolutely adorable. I saw her this morning and she giggled and laughed the whole time I was there. She's such a happy little thing, and gorgeous too. Have you seen her eyes?"

"How could I miss them? They're so beautiful. Like amethyst gems come to life."

"I couldn't agree more. I just wish the other babies were like her. Especially the new one."

The volunteer worker cringed. "I know what you mean."

* * *

_Same day the above conversation took place—Persephone's Point of View—_

There was a new baby at St. Maurie's. He would've been cute with his light brown hair and emerald eyes had it not been for the fact that he was a wailer.

Every time I tried to fall asleep, the kid screamed his lungs open. The other caretakers and volunteer workers were getting annoyed as well. Even Plain Jane seemed to be testing her patience. Though she still fawned over me.

My hands fisted the small teddy bear that one of the teenage volunteers had gifted me with. If he didn't _shut up_ in the next two minutes, I would be lowering my standards on my kills.

Unlike some assassins, I knew where to draw the line, and I had a few personal morals that I tried my hardest to uphold. Killings were done when the victim was alone: no spouses or kids or friends or relatives around. And anyone under the age of ten (unless there was no other option) was off-limits.

This brat was about to be my first baby kill.

I sighed.

Though I say that, I knew I wasn't that far off the bend yet. Besides, what the hell was I suppose to kill him with? All I had was a blanket, a rattle, and a teddy bear. Nothing even remotely dangerous.

I blinked. Wait…The rattle.

My lips curved into a smile and I snatched the pink toy from the bottom corner of my crib. I scrambled up, using the bars to support my weight.

Aim…Fire!

The rattle sailed towards his crib, bouncing off his forehead, and knocking him over.

The room was silent. I inwardly cheered, settling back down.

_Finally_, the little monster was quiet.

"Waaahhhh!"

He would die the moment I got my hands on anything lethal.

* * *

**Authors Note:**

Thank you to everyone who reviewed my last chapter :)

Keep the comments coming, I'm mainly updating so fast because people tell me they want me to. Instead of just reading and not writing anything. Seriously, I'll amuse you didn't like my story. I mean, if that's really the case, then at least leave me some constructive criticism on what you think is wrong, and I'll try to fix it.

*hint hint* My subtle way of telling you to review.

There's also something that's been nagging at me: Persephone's flame type.

I have a pretty good idea which ones she should have, but I want your opinions on it too.

So click the review box below and type away!


	5. Karma

**Disclaimer: I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn**

**Warnings: mention of child molestation **

* * *

_One week later…In the nursery…(Persephone is five months and a half old now)_

Killing a mere infant is degrading. This is the mantra I've sustained for the past week.

The little hellion—whose name I found out was Alaric—constantly bawled and sobbed, consequently starting a chain reaction with the other babies. Besides me.

I was soon the popular favorite of the nursery.

Regrettably, this favoritism led to me being placed in a separate room with only the whelp to keep me company.

Why? Because the caretakers had finally decided to wise up and isolate the problem. Sadly though—as he only lived to make everyone's lives hell—the devil child cried louder when he was alone, and as a result, I was forced to stay with the brat.

They had even, in their infinite wisdom, left us in the same crib; perhaps with the hopes that my silence would rub off on him.

I eyed the howling infant beside me disdainfully. While I may not be callous enough to murder a baby in cold blood; there were other ways of dealing with nuisances. Since the sounds originated from his mouth; I would just have to find a way to keep it closed or somehow cut off the noise emitting from it completely. Simple.

There was the idiotic but oh-so-tempting option of ripping out his vocal cords bare-handed, but that would leave behind too much physical evidence (not to mention, turn everyone against me), and my tiny hands were too small and soft to accomplish such a task.

I scowled; though it came out as more of an angry pout.

What was the saying that applied to what I was trying to do? "Shocked speechless"?

Weren't there reports of rookie criminals scaring their witnesses into never talking again? Would that work?

I personally tried to avoid witnesses whenever possible, but on the few times that someone caught me in action, I always made sure they weren't alive to testify against me later on, so I wouldn't know, but it was worth a shot.

The whelp rolled over and screamed directly into my ear.

Oh yes, it was most definitely worth a shot. The little monster was about to experience hell.

I didn't hold any misconceptions on the reactions from the adults. Most of them would raise a big fuss and hold sympathy for the little demon, but eventually, they would move on. The kid was a stranger, granted, one who they were obligated to care for, but otherwise; a thorn in their backsides. Oh, they would do the sociably acceptable thing and show outward pity for the required amount of time, but inwardly, they would celebrate the new found peacefulness rewarded to them. It was just the way people were.

There were no such things as a genuinely nice person. Even the "kindest" individual harbored cruel thoughts once in a while. It was human nature. Most people merely chose to blind themselves to this fact because they didn't want to ruin the image of a person they found perfect, or because they themselves didn't want to acknowledge that they could so heartless.

In the end: everyone was a liar.

* * *

_A week later…_

Jane frowned worriedly as she fed little Alaric his milk. She hadn't been very appreciative of all his yelling when he had first arrived, but now that he never made a sound anymore, she was beginning to get a little frightened. It just wasn't natural to go from loud to absolutely silent in such a short amount of time.

Perhaps Persephone had been _too much_ of a good influence on him?

Jane chuckled.

Well of course she had. The little sweetheart was an angel; always so happy and bubbly. Alaric must've been charmed into silence. Maybe he had even developed a crush! Oh how cute. She would need to take pictures the next time they were together.

Still though, she supposed she would take Susan's suggestion into consideration and get them both checked out in the case that she was wrong, and Alaric had a throat infection or something equally terrible. Persephone, she was sure, was currently perfectly healthy, but after being in such close contact with Alaric, might have caught something as well.

There was wiggling from her arms. Jane snapped out of her musings, and looked down, gasping at what she saw.

Baby Alaric was choking on the bottle, milk spurting from his mouth.

Hurriedly, she yanked it out, tossing it to the floor, and tried to sooth the coughing distressed infant.

* * *

_At the hospital three days later…Alone in an examination room with a nurse…—Persephone's Point of View—_

I scrutinized the female nurse carefully. There was something _off_ about her. She hadn't done anything suspicious, but there was this niggling sensation in the back of my mind that wouldn't leave me alone. And as it was this same feeling that had bailed me out on various occasions before, I was reluctant to discard it.

She finished filling out my chart and turned to smile brightly at me.

"Hello sweetie. So your name is Persephone?"

I deliberately let out a cute laugh. It always paid to endear yourself to everyone.

She squealed. "Oh you're so adorable! And you have such beautiful eyes and curls as well." She leaned in and pecked my lips, rubbing circles on my cheeks with her thumbs.

Okay…

Then, without warning, her hands grasped my face in a firm hold, and she kissed me again; only this time, with tongue.

I wasn't ashamed to admit that my "baby-mask" was startled out of its place and I let out an involuntary muffled shriek.

_Oh my God_. I was in the same room as a child molester.

* * *

_Meanwhile, in another hospital room…_

Jane and Susan stared at the male doctor in horror.

"What the hell do you mean he's mute?! The kid's been screaming since he arrived at the orphanage!" Susan demanded.

The doctor looked at her seriously.

"It would seem that young Alaric has been intimidated into silence. Usually, this only happens when a person witnesses a horrifying event or goes through a truly tragic ordeal, but as he is only a baby, I'm afraid I'm unaware of the specifics to what could have caused it." He paused, looking them each in the eye warily, "You may want to do a more secure background check on the people who took care of him."

Jane's hands went to her mouth and Susan shot him a wide-eyed look.

"You think one of the workers or volunteers could have hurt him?" Susan asked.

The doctor smiled grimly. "There is no other possibility madam. His vocal cords haven't been damaged in any way, which means that he is only emotionally or mentally scarred."

"Dear God," Jane breathed "Who could have been inhumane enough to do that to an innocent baby?"

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Again, thank you to everyone who reviewed my last chapter. It was the most I've gotten out of all of them. All comments were very much appreciated :D

I'm currently battling with two decisions on where to take my story:

**Scenario****1:**Persephone is found by Reborn and is raised by him. Leading her to become known as "Reborn's daughter" by everyone in the mafia, and is there throughout the entire canon from the very beginning with Tsuna. She rarely gets to kill in this situation because Reborn doesn't want her to fight. There will be a lot of fluff and cute moments between her baby self and Adult!Reborn...but also frustrating and aggravating chapters where she just wants to punch him after the acrobaleno curse when her body is a teenager going through puberty, and Reborn becomes insanely unreasonable.

**Scenario 2: **Reborn stays unaware and Persephone becomes known throughout the underworld as an S-class assassin. The story will mainly focus on her assassinations and her few meetings with some of Reborn's acquaintances. She only meets the Vongola gang later throughout the anime; after the future arc where they find out that Reborn has a daughter, and so searches her out. A lot of cute overprotective and possessive moments between Persephone and Reborn in this one. Though it starts out with Persephone rejecting Reborn because she's doesn't think of herself as his "real" daughter; and Reborn in turn, actively pursuing her and trying to get involved with her life because she's his bambina, and he only just found her.

Be sure to click the review button below and help me out!


	6. Author's Note (Read to find new story)

Yeah, I know some of you hate me right now because I probably caused you to get briefly excited about my "update" (at least I hope you were), but hear me out (or read this through, whatever):

I've rewritten this story and I've already uploaded it, so please give the new one a shot. It's literally called "Angel of Death Rewrite", I won't abandon it this time (although, can it really be "abandoning" if I technically just rewrote it?), I promise.

PS. All those questions I asked you guys: Flame type and scenario 1 or 2. Don't worry, you didn't waste your time. I'll be incorporating them into my new story.


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